Nearly everything’s perfect
and hunger which has persisted for no one knows how long.
The odd nature of the situation ceases to be important because we care about the characters, as they evidently care about themselves and each other.
While the sinister MW Corporation seems intent on changing the rules to keep them where they are, there might yet be a way for humanity to defy the tyrannical power.
Play on Words, directed by Shane Hickey-o’mara, is a surprise find in a small and stiflingly hot basement theatre. At its heart is a lively, innovative piece of writing and a pair of strong performances.
It’s a reflection on the nature of work, frustrating yet compelling, both the punishment and the thing which makes the punishment bearable. And it reminds us of the difficulty of pinning words down, and the potential gulf between a word itself and what it really means. SUSAN MANSFIELD Assembly George Square Theatre (Venue 8) JJJJ Despite being an Edinburgh Fringe newcomer, Damien Power is 13 years a comic. And you’d call him a natural if it didn’t undermine one of the core arguments in his wide-ranging, densely packed hour. Advocating that everyone should try stand-up, if only to disabuse them of illusions about the apparent ease and glamour involved, he suggests that we all dream in two dimensions, never appreciating the additional dimension of sacrifice and dedication required by reality.
The likeable Australian isn’t so self-obsessed and precious to just flatly come out and say this though, leading into it with the example of his successful Indy 500-racing brother, whose fitness regime, graft and risk to his life belies the theories of the average guy in his car that he too could be a world champion. One of several strands in which Power decries superficiality, he also laments his Christian ex-girlfriend rejecting sex because of a supposed sign from God, and the limitations of technology and capitalism in forging a utopian future, the latter inspiring a very funny act out in which he envisions a third-world farmer literally emancipated by his coffee-buying largesse.
The most memorable elements in this hour are the stealthy ways in which this single father deploys his son to keep an eye on his expartner and her new boyfriend. And his desire not to just crowd-please but to say something with his comedy, in contrast to the famous act he supported who chewed him out for his edgier material, and whom he now sends up with cold, clinical vengeance. There’s nothing ventured by Power that will drastically alter your world view. Equally, there’s not a duff routine, just strong stand-up, capably woven together. JAY RICHARDSON
0 Damien Power: There’s not a duff routine in Utopia is the central idea – one that draws in weighty subjects such as the Paris agreement, but with a heliuminjected lightness of touch.
Imaginative scenes build up to a musical conclusion which, thanks to the duo’s joyful energy, will have you singing Take That’s ‘Let’s go round the world’ as you skip down the stairs at the end, the words “stay optimistic; make a difference” encouraging you to do just that. SALLY STOTT your way through territory loaded with expectations and associations.
These issues are then further explored in four character monologues from a text written more than a decade ago by Karl O’brian Williams, a Jamaican who is an academic in New York. There is a Jamaican woman in church, more interested in fine clothes than black consciousness, a young professional knocked back at a job interview, a black woman explaining her reasons for choosing to be with a white man.
While the production is uneven in places (the voice is rather indistinct in the first monologue, for example), it’s a bold effort by a dynamic young performer. However, in a field where the discourse is changing rapidly, Williams’ text is beginning to look dated. While this play touches on important subtleties in the discussion about black identity, the broad brush-strokes at times come close to being unhelpful stereotypes. SUSAN MANSFIELD